


you can take me piece by piece

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: witches, watchers, slayers [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Past Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: “You’re gonna let me take care of you, right?” Jenny murmured, settling her face against his coat. She felt Remus nuzzle the side of her face in response; she wasn’t sure what kind of an answer that was, but she hoped it was the right one.
Relationships: Jenny Calendar/Remus Lupin
Series: witches, watchers, slayers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1090524
Comments: 25
Kudos: 32





	you can take me piece by piece

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a little while back to figure out jenny and remus's backstory & relationship dynamic in the big btvs/hp crossover, and polished it up today to post it as an actual fic! i think this thing works fine as a standalone, tho.

Two days after Sirius Black murdered Peter Pettigrew, Jenny found Remus drinking alone—and heavily—at the Hog’s Head. She’d been expecting to find him a little closer to the small apartment he and Sirius had been sharing, but this made sense too; the bartender here never asked whether you were seventeen, and it had consequently been Sirius’s favorite place when they were all in school.

Remus looked up when he saw her. “Jenny,” he said. His voice broke in the middle. “He—”

Jenny swept him up into a hug so that he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. _“Remus,”_ she whispered, holding onto him. Tightly. So tightly. They were the only ones left, now. “God, I—”

“He kissed me.” Remus sounded so far away. “He—Halloween night, he’d been working late. Order missions, he’d said. He left mid-afternoon, but—but he didn’t forget to kiss me. We’d made plans for—for when this was all over. We’d talked about how it would be so wonderful for all of this to be over. He said we’d invite you and James and Lily and Peter—” He choked on the last name and began to cry.

“Remus.” It was taking everything in Jenny not to cry herself.

“James and Lily—”

Jenny shuddered. “I know.”

“Dead,” said Remus numbly. “Dead, dead, all dead—them and Peter and—” He looked up at her, then, his shaking hands reaching up to cup her face. She rested her forehead against his, letting a sob escape. “Jenny,” he whispered again. “Jenny, it’s—it’s only us now.”

The last time Jenny had seen Sirius, he’d looked exhausted. He’d been laughing—laughing, laughing, always laughing—about some letter Lily had written him, something or other about the mischief that baby Harry had gotten himself into recently. He’d been talking about how he couldn’t wait to teach James Potter’s son how to ride a bona fide broomstick. He’d always talked about the war like it’d be over soon enough—like good couldn’t help but triumph over evil. He’d never taken it really seriously; he and Remus had gotten into a few fights about that kind of thing, but he’d never backed down. _We just have to keep fighting,_ he would say, eyes bright and voice brimming over with determined passion. _Just a bit longer, and soon James and Lily won’t have to hide anymore._

Sirius Black. They’d gone out for a year in Hogwarts. It hadn’t been in any way romantic; Sirius and Jenny were mostly just making a last-ditch, fake-dating attempt at pleasing their disapproving parents. Except Sirius’s family thought Jenny was a Muggle-loving blood traitor, and Jenny’s family hated Sirius’s motorbike, and it had all culminated in Jenny’s parents disowning her and Sirius running away from home. It had been a long-standing joke between Sirius, Jenny, and Remus; Jenny had always teased Remus about how even _she’d_ managed to date Sirius before him. _Everyone in Hogwarts knew you had a thing for him,_ she’d laughed, _and I still managed to get in there before you! That takes skill, Remus, that takes talent—_

Jenny didn’t think she could ever let go of Remus, now. She’d looked away for just a second, and when she looked back—James and Lily, bubbling over with newlywed happiness, had been killed in their home. Peter, shy and sweet in that weird kind of way, had been blown to pieces so small they only found his finger. Sirius Black, one of the best people she knew, had been a double agent for Morgana only knew how long.

“Everyone is fucking _celebrating,”_ said Remus, looking at her with those hollow eyes. “I can’t—I can’t be here without wanting to be too drunk to think.”

Jenny swallowed. “Come stay with me,” she said.

“Jenny—”

“Sirius and James were paying your share of the rent, Remus,” said Jenny. “There’s no way you can keep it up. I sold my family’s shitty mansion and I’ve got a two-bedroom apartment far away from wizards, so just—”

“Jenny, I just—I want to be alone.”

“Funny way you’re showing it,” said Jenny, placing her hands pointedly over Remus’s on her face.

Remus flipped his hands over, lacing his fingers with her. He looked bleary and lost, like his entire world had been upended in one night.

Jenny knew the feeling. She’d gone to sleep with the same kind of nervous worry she always had, but now—now some of her closest friends had been cut down by one of her _oldest_ friends. She and Sirius had hidden from everyone else at wizarding galas together when they were eight. He had stolen petit fours and brought them back to her so they could eat under the table together. “C’mon, Moony,” she whispered. “Please.”

A long moment. Then Remus nodded.

* * *

Remus woke up on Jenny’s couch. He recognized it from the handful of nights he and Sirius had had one of their particularly dramatic fights. Generally it was Remus who left, because he couldn’t stand to be in a place that he hadn’t been able to pay for. In Jenny’s house, he could pretend he was a guest with enough money to buy things like better robes and a nicer apartment and all the ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion.

His head was throbbing, which didn’t do a thing to distract from how fucking empty he felt. Disjointed memories flashed through his mind—Sirius’s arms around his waist, his mouth at Remus’s neck. James making Remus a cup of coffee the day before he and Lily officially went into hiding, dark circles under his eyes from being up all night rocking Harry to sleep. Peter, once brave enough to learn how to become an Animagus, looking more and more miserable by the day as the war dragged on. And Jenny—

“Hey.” Jenny leaned down, running a hand through his hair. Something in Remus’s chest unknotted a bit when he looked at her. “Do you want something to drink? Not alcohol,” she added hastily. “We’re not condoning that in this house.”

Remus smiled tiredly, sitting up to take her hand. She gave him a sad smile back, sitting down next to him on the couch. “Thank you,” he said. “I think water is all I can manage at the moment.”

Jenny didn’t move. Her little grin trembled.

“Jenny?”

“It’s just us now, huh?” said Jenny, her hand tightening on his.

“Jenny,” said Remus softly.

“You and Sirius were talking about getting married yourself when all this was over.” There was a tight, strained note to Jenny’s voice. “You were talking about—god, I don’t know. The Ministry doesn’t usually recognize same-sex unions, and don’t think I’m not gonna write a piece for the _Prophet_ on _that_ next because it is _totally_ bullshit, but you were still talking about—about throwing a party. You said Harry could be th-the ring bearer.”

“Jenny, it’s all right.”

Jenny shook her head, eyes wet. “It’s _not,”_ she said. “It can’t _ever_ be. It can be close to all right, but it’s not—it’s not going to be _all right_ again, Remus. Not wh-when Harry is never going to—” She sobbed, then, a strange, broken sound like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Never going to grow up knowing his parents! And god, I _hope_ he never knows his godfather, not when—”

Remus pulled her into his arms as she sobbed, burying his face in her dark hair. He had never held Jenny like this before, and had never realized how very _small_ she was. Small and fragile and altogether breakable—how was it, he thought, that Jenny had survived and the man he loved had not? And then he hated himself for wishing it was Sirius crying in his arms, because Sirius was a liar and a spy and had deceived every single one of them. And Jenny—

She raised her head, dark eyes wet and bright.

Jenny, Remus thought, was one of the best people he knew. Jenny had been fighting for the Order in a different way, using her writing and her intelligence and her long-dead family’s money to advocate for those who needed it the most. He rested his forehead against hers, and that knot in his chest seemed to loosen again. “The man I love is dead,” said Remus unsteadily. “But—if I had known him for what he was, I don’t think I ever would have loved him.”

“And that just makes it all right?” Jenny didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“It—has to,” said Remus. He felt like crying himself, now, but found himself thoroughly sick of tears. “It has to, Jenny, because I won’t spend the rest of my life grieving the loss of a man who never loved me.”

Jenny moved back to look at him more closely. “You’re allowed to, though,” she said gently. “You don’t have to hate yourself—”

“He _fooled_ me.”

“He fooled all of us.”

“It’s different for me.”

“Oh, so you’re special now?” At Remus’s expression, Jenny winced. “That came out wrong. I just mean—”

“No, I know what you mean,” said Remus stiffly. “It’s just—Jenny, you didn’t share a bed with him. You didn’t—you didn’t talk with him about the kind of lives you’d live together after the war. You didn’t see the way he looked in the morning, and you didn’t—didn’t know how it felt when he smiled at you and you knew it was because he _loved_ you. And I was so _fucking_ desperate for any scrap of love that I let a _Death Eater_ fuck me in _every_ way possible because I was—” When had he started crying again? “Because I was so bloody afraid of being alone, because I _knew_ anyone in their right mind wouldn’t want a werewolf in the same way he did, and I was _right—”_

“Remus, you are _such_ a goddamn idiot,” said Jenny with a sort of sympathetic exasperation, and pulled him into another hug. “Sirius wasn’t some weird anomaly, okay? You dated an asshole. It happens.”

“Usually your terrible ex doesn’t _murder your friends!”_ Remus sobbed out. “I should have _known,_ I was just too busy being—”

“You were in love!” Jenny tugged his face up to hers, locking her eyes with his. “Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself for being brave enough to _care_ about someone. Don’t you give Sirius Black the fucking satisfaction of ending your life along with everyone else’s.” Her thumb stroked his cheek. “You are gonna get through this,” she said fiercely. “You are gonna get through this. _We_ are gonna get through this. Okay?”

“I don’t know how to believe you,” Remus whispered.

“Remus—”

“Everyone that matters to me is dead.”

Jenny pulled back; she looked like he had slapped her. Without a word, she got up off the couch.

“Oh—Jenny,” said Remus, horrified. “Jenny, I didn’t—”

“Fuck you,” said Jenny.

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“No, I _know_ what you mean,” Jenny shot back, and stormed into the kitchen.

Remus followed her. She’d shut the door behind her, and when he opened it, she was crying against the refrigerator. “Jenny,” he whispered. “Jenny, I’m sorry—”

 _“Fuck_ you!” Jenny sobbed, pushing his hands away.

“I only meant—”

“I don’t _care!_ I had to drag your ass out of that stupid bar and your excellent opinion on the matter is that _I don’t matter?”_

“Jenny, you don’t _count,”_ said Remus, the honest truth spilling out in his desperation to say something, _anything._ “You lost everyone that matters to _you._ Do you think we can count our wins on a day like today? Do you think I can look at you and feel glad you’re alive when all I can think about is James and Lily and P-Peter?” She was looking at him. That was a start. “I can’t—I can’t think about how lucky I am that you’re here,” Remus whispered. “I wouldn’t even be sober right now if you weren’t. You’re the only reason I’m sleeping under a roof and not in the alley behind the Hog’s Head. You go _beyond_ mattering, Jenny. You’re all I have.”

With another sob, Jenny threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest as she continued to cry. Remus hid his face in her hair again and held on—tight, so tight, because if he let go for even a _second_ she might disappear too.

* * *

One week after Sirius Black murdered Peter Pettigrew, Remus was having trouble sleeping. Jenny knew this because he kept on wandering around at weird hours and waking her up, and whenever she came out of her room, he’d mumble a panicked apology and all but run back to his room. The first time it had happened, she’d decided to allow him his privacy—but after it happened four days in a row, she decided that definite intervention was needed.

As such, when Remus got up to head towards his bedroom, Jenny said firmly, “Remus, are you even _sleeping_ in there?”

Remus looked abashed, then embarrassed, then _miserable,_ which made Jenny immediately feel like she’d pushed too hard. Damn it. But the thing was, Remus was reticent as _fuck_ when it came to admitting he needed help; if you didn’t push too hard, you ran the risk of not pushing hard enough. “I know I’ve been disturbing you,” he said tiredly. “I really am sorry about that. I’m doing my best to handle the situation—”

“—by yourself?” Jenny finished, raising an eyebrow. “I live here too, you know. Are you ever gonna even try and ask me for help?”

Remus looked directly up at her at that. “This shouldn’t be your problem,” he said heavily. “You’re kind enough to house me, Jenny, I wouldn’t want—”

“You complete and actual dumbass,” said Jenny exhaustedly, “we are _friends._ Helping you is not a _problem,_ it is something that I _want to do._ We’re both going through literally the worst time ever, and I—” She swallowed, trying to smile. “I’m not always sure how I can help myself. But if I can help _you,_ then I think that that might help _me_ right now, at least a little bit.”

This seemed to startle Remus.

“I _care_ about you,” Jenny persisted. “Okay?”

Remus gave her the ghost of a smile. “As I do you,” he said. “But _I’m_ not sure how you can help me with this one.”

“Throw it at me before you start shooting down my incredible helping skills, why don’tcha?” Jenny teased.

“It’s not—” Remus sighed. With some effort, he said, “Sirius—having him in the bed—I’ve grown accustomed to it. I really just need to get used to sleeping alone. It’s—I don’t think that it’s something that you can help with, and I’m not sure if I would feel comfortable with you trying.”

“And when you say _trying—”_

Remus looked up at her with an _are-you-seriously-asking-me-what-I-mean_ expression.

Jenny held up her hands with a nervous laugh. “Well, I wasn’t about to suggest I spoon you to sleep, Remus!” she said in a high-pitched voice that sounded generally unconvincing (at least to her, because she knew that she was kinda-sorta-definitely lying). “But I think some _company_ could definitely help. What if I just…I don’t know. Sat in your room until you fell asleep?”

Remus snorted. “What, you’d just sit in the chair and watch me?”

“I could sit on the bed,” Jenny suggested. “And talk to you about the _most_ boring articles I read this week.”

“I’ll…consider it.” But Remus had gone from looking wrung-out to vaguely amused, which Jenny decided _definitely_ counted as a win. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Jenny gently bumped her shoulder with his. “We’re doing this thing together, remember?”

“What thing?”

“Trauma thing.”

“Ah. Yes, of course.”

* * *

Remus lay awake at night for a few hours, as per usual. Then, after a little while, he got up to get himself a cup of tea, as per usual.

Jenny was already sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in a fuzzy blue bathrobe and sporting a shockingly adorable case of bedhead. When she smiled up at him, Remus felt his heart flip over. “Hey there, handsome,” she teased, grinning at him over the rim of the mug she was holding.

“Have you…” Remus’s eyes went to the kettle in the middle of the table, right next to his favorite mug. “Have you just been waiting for me to come out here?”

Jenny’s grin flickered. “Is this too much?”

“No! No, it’s…” Remus found himself smiling. The feeling surprised him. “Sweet,” he said. “I’m very touched.”

Jenny looked greatly relieved. “Thank _Morgana._ I thought I’d _totally_ overstepped.” She scooted the mug towards him. “Do you want some tea?”

“I would _deeply_ appreciate some tea. Thank you.” Remus sat down in the kitchen chair nearest to Jenny, picking up the kettle to pour tea into his mug. “Are you going to tell me all about the aforementioned boring articles?”

Jenny shrugged. “Do you feel like sleeping right now?”

Remus thought of his too-big, too-empty bed. “No,” he said quietly. He almost always dreamed of better times with Sirius and James and Lily. Somehow, those were worse than nightmares.

“Well, okay.” Jenny gave him a lopsided smile. “Want me to read you dumb op-eds from _Witch Weekly?”_

“You’re subscribed to _Witch Weekly?”_

“I’m _ironically_ subscribed to _Witch Weekly.”_

“…ironically or not, Jenny, you’re still giving them money. You do realize that, right?”

“It’s my shitty family’s money,” Jenny pointed out. “And _they’re_ pureblood supremacists who ended up either dead or in prison _or_ dead in prison. You know, actually, I’m pretty sure none of them are alive at this point?”

“I suppose this explains the exorbitant amount of money you spend on non-magical technology,” said Remus dryly.

“Oh, that’s totally unironic. Have you _seen_ computers?” Jenny’s face lit up.

Remus smiled slightly, something warm and happy unfurling in his chest. In the dimmed lights of Jenny’s cozy kitchen, she almost seemed to _glow._ “Do tell me more,” he said.

* * *

Three weeks after Sirius Black murdered Peter Pettigrew, Jenny went to go get all of Remus’s things from the apartment he’d shared with Sirius. Remus hadn’t been able to go—too painful, he’d said—so Jenny had him on the phone while she packed up his stuff.

“Um, weird green knitted throw that smells like mothballs?”

 _“Leave it,”_ said Remus. _“I despise that thing. Bought it with my hard-earned money, but werewolves don’t earn much.”_

“I hate when you call yourself that.”

 _“What, a werewolf?”_ There was a bitter laugh in Remus’s voice. _“It’s what I am. Would you prefer ‘afflicted with lycanthropy,’ or—”_

“That’s not what I mean.” Jenny flicked her wand; the throw went flying into a box marked _DONATE._ “You call yourself _werewolf_ like it’s some kind of personal failing on your part.”

There was a long silence. Then Remus said, _“Why don’t we go back to talking about the things that need packing?”_

“At _some_ point, you should consider seeing a therapist,” Jenny added.

 _“Quite frankly, we should_ both _consider seeing a therapist. I, however, don’t have the money for—”_

“Shut the fuck up. I’ll pay.” Jenny picked up a framed photo of Sirius and Remus, staring down at Sirius’s easy smile. He didn’t _look_ like the Death Eaters she’d seen, but James and Lily wouldn’t be dead if he _wasn’t_ one. None of this made any sense. All of it hurt. Putting the photo back down again, she cleared her throat and said, “Do you want any of the furniture here?”

A dry chuckle. _“Do_ you? _I’m the one overstaying my welcome; there’s no need for me to move_ furniture _in unless you yourself want it.”_

“I reiterate: shut the fuck up. I’ve told you that you can stay for the rest of your life if it’s what you feel like doing.”

_“Jenny—”_

“Remus, in this political climate, it’s going to be _impossible_ for you to get a job!” Jenny pointed out. “There were a handful of werewolf communities very openly involved with Voldemort, and now there’s this disgusting profiling going on where wizarding businesses won’t hire _any_ werewolves, _and_ you don’t have a non-magical job history so you’d end up working some shitty minimum wage non-magic job if you’re _lucky—”_

 _“What a bracing and ultimately uplifting pep talk,”_ said Remus dryly.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”

There was a strange pause on the line. Then, with a nervous laugh, Remus said, _“There’s an end table in the bedroom—it was my mother’s. If you can pack that…?”_

“On it!” said Jenny, who couldn’t figure out for the _life_ of her why she was blushing. “End table!” Belatedly, she realized what he’d just said. “Wait. Does that mean—”

 _“I suppose I can stay—semi-permanently,”_ said Remus awkwardly. _“It makes financial sense.”_

“It does.” Jenny’s heart was fluttering. “Yeah.”

* * *

(This was the part of the story that Jenny had never told anyone: during her sixth year, before she and Sirius had started fake-dating and Remus had gotten real-jealous, she had harbored a deeply secret crush on a certain awkward, gentle werewolf with shockingly high grades in pretty much all of his classes. The crush had passed, obviously; she’d figured out pretty fast that Remus and Sirius had only ever had eyes for each other, and she cared about both of them too much to add her own weird feelings to the mix.

The crush had passed, because it had _had_ to pass—but Sirius was out of the picture now in a very real and permanent way, and Remus didn’t want him back. And suddenly it felt like Jenny was sixteen all over again.)

* * *

Jenny arrived back home—back at _her house,_ Remus corrected himself firmly, not _home,_ not _his—_ with all of Remus’s things in tow. It hurt to look at the three small cardboard boxes; Remus and Sirius’s apartment had been cluttered and messy and _full_ of things. Remus had expected the things he’d wanted to take up more space—and yet they didn’t, because almost everything in that apartment reminded him of Sirius in some painful way.

Setting down the box, Jenny crossed the room to place a hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“Well, my friends are dead,” said Remus, trying to crack a smile.

“And I’m not your friend?”

“Not quite,” said Remus.

Jenny raised an eyebrow.

Remus wasn’t sure how to define the way he felt around Jenny, lately. He’d lost Sirius in a fashion more permanent than even death—even his memories of their time together would forever be shaded by Sirius’s deceit—and yet Jenny stubbornly refused to let Remus succumb to guilt and grief. She allowed him to _feel_ it, but not to _lose_ himself in it. She made him laugh. He didn’t know if Sirius would be quite capable of carrying on so resiliently. (He didn’t know Sirius at all, though, so he supposed it didn’t matter.)

“You’re—more than that,” he said, and reached up to place his hand over hers.

To his surprise, Jenny _blushed._ “Wait, do you mean—”

“What?” Remus jerked his hand away, heart pounding. “No, I just—just that—” He laughed nervously, unsure of what to say. “You’re _important,”_ he finally said.

The strange vulnerability in Jenny’s eyes dissipated, replaced by her usual easy-breezy smile. _“Hell_ yeah I am,” she said, which made Remus laugh again. “Glad you’ve got your priorities in order. You gonna help me unpack this or what?”

Remus opened the first box—and was met by a framed photo from James and Lily’s wedding. Him, James, and Lily, all three of them beaming at the camera—Lily in her little white sundress, James in his disheveled dress robes, Remus in slightly raggedy dress robes of his own.

It hurt, still—but they had been happy, James and Lily. The last years of their life had been terrible, but James and Lily had always been so damn happy to be together. Remus didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Remus?”

Remus looked to Jenny, Jenny with her dark eyes and her delicate frame. Maybe he _did_ mean to make her blush, he thought—and felt disloyal to Sirius for even _thinking_ it. And then he felt _worse,_ because Sirius had been disloyal to _him_ this whole time—

“Remus,” said Jenny, giving him a wry smile, and took the box from him, setting it aside. “I think I can handle the unpacking. I’ll get the stuff set up in your room if you make dinner, okay?”

“No, I can—”

“No, you _can’t,_ if you’re just going to stare at a photo of you with James and Lily and look like you want to jump off a bridge,” Jenny countered. She gave him a small, awkward smile. “I don’t want that to happen.”

“…well,” said Remus, and smiled back.

* * *

Four months after Sirius Black murdered Peter Pettigrew, Jenny had decided to stop counting the days since she and Remus had lost four loved ones all in one go. What was important _now_ was this article for the _Prophet,_ which—

“Remus?” said Jenny, glaring at the stupid memo that her stupid boss had just sent her.

“Mm?” Remus was dozing on the sofa.

“Remus,” said Jenny, and crumpled up the memo into a ball, tossing it at Remus’s face. He groaned, pulling himself up to uncrumple the memo and read it. “They’re giving the front page of this issue to _Rita Skeeter.”_

“She does sell, you know,” said Remus blearily.

“She’s a talentless hack!” Jenny huffed. “She’s journalism at its worst! She’s the one who wrote that exposé on werewolves last month that was _easily_ one of the most bigoted, fear-mongering things I’ve read since _Voldemort!_ Honestly, Voldemort would _love_ her, and I _don’t_ understand why we’re still even printing her stuff!”

“You said it yourself, Jenny, didn’t you?” Remus pointed out, setting the memo down on the coffee table and giving her a slightly amused smile. “In this political climate—”

“Oh, shut up.” Jenny flung herself into the easy chair with a sigh. “I hate this.”

“If you hated it, I doubt you’d keep doing it so enthusiastically.”

“…fuck you.”

“Love you too.”

Jenny blinked; her heart skipped a beat. _Goddess, Janna, get_ over _yourself!_

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” Remus offered. “Chamomile can be wholly soothing when you’re in a stressful work environment.”

Relieved for the opportunity to return to normalcy, Jenny pulled a face. “That’ll just make me sleepy,” she pointed out, “and I _do_ kinda have an article to write, so…”

“Duly noted. I’ll make you coffee.” Remus got up off the couch, squeezing Jenny’s shoulder as he passed her on his way to the kitchen.

Jenny watched him go with a strange, frustrating, happy-sad feeling in her chest. She didn’t _want_ to have these weird feelings around her closest, oldest friend. She would never have had them had Sirius still been around, keeping Remus safely and obviously unattainable. But Remus had had a hell of a lot of time to look for another place to live—he’d found a _job_ at a local bookstore, he’d saved up a solid amount of money—and he _didn’t,_ and when she’d asked him about it, he’d said a little awkwardly that he liked being around her. And _then_ she’d had to lock herself in the bathroom for fifteen minutes to alternate between freaking out and grinning hysterically—all with the worst ever case of butterflies in her stomach. It was just _too much_ lately.

She decided to follow him into the kitchen.

Remus was just getting out the coffeepot. He smiled when he saw her. “Taking a break from your article?”

“More like taking a break from _starting_ my article,” said Jenny ruefully. “Even before the Rita Skeeter thing, I’ve been having trouble getting it started. No one really _wants_ to hear about the existing problems in our society—everyone just wants to hear about how we’re all living in a perfect utopia now that Voldemort is finally gone, and how we need to maintain that utopia by reinforcing the harmful stereotypes that created the initial problems in the first place! And it just—”

“Jenny, are you _sure_ you don’t need that chamomile tea?” Remus interrupted, setting down the coffeepot to give her another little grin. “I can’t exactly see coffee helping this situation.”

“Wh—” It took Jenny a second to realize that Remus was _teasing_ her, and when she did, she couldn’t hide her smile. The last time Remus had been in a teasing mood was—

Was weeks and weeks ago, during one of the last Order meetings. Sirius and Remus had shown up conspicuously late; Sirius had been uncharacteristically flustered, which meant that—for once—it hadn’t been his idea. Remus had casually placed his hand on Sirius’s knee for the entirety of the Order meeting, and Jenny and Lily (who had been sitting on the other side of the table) had had to hide their giggles, because this was wartime and an Order meeting wasn’t a place for shenanigans. And James hadn’t been there; he’d been preparing to go into hiding, back then, staying back with Harry in their little place in Godric’s Hollow. And—

“Jenny,” said Remus suddenly, his smile falling away. “Jenny—”

Jenny fell into his arms with a sob. This happened, sometimes; they were getting better at handling it. She felt Remus gather her close with one arm, kiss the top of her head, and then— “Dear, I need to make tea,” he said. “I don’t want to burn you—”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, okay,” said Jenny hastily, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. “Obviously. God. Sorry, I—”

“Please don’t apologize.” Remus gave her a small, sad smile. “You know I mean it when I say I understand.”

* * *

Over tea, Jenny was unusually quiet. All of a sudden, it felt like Remus’s responsibility to find fun, distracting things to talk about; he desperately cast around in his brain for a topic of conversation. “Full moon’s coming up next week,” he said, and winced; this was neither fun nor distracting. But it seemed to have captured Jenny’s attention, so he soldiered on. “I should be heading out to the countryside tomorrow, just to be safe—”

“Holy shit, that reminds me,” said Jenny suddenly.

“Oh?”

Suddenly, Jenny looked a bit nervous. After a moment of hesitation, she said, “You read about the Wolfsbane potion, right? That big discovery everyone was talking about a few months ago?”

“Yes, and I did my research,” said Remus ruefully. “I’d have brought it up to you if I thought it an option, Jenny, but the potion-brewing process is complex and the ingredients are _ludicrously_ expensive. Hiring a qualified potion master to brew it for me would likely cost _less_ money than buying all of the ingredients myself—and hiring a qualified potion master can cost at _least_ a hundred Galleons.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I don’t have _mon—_ oh, I see where you’re going with this. No. Absolutely not.” Remus felt a bizarre mixture of exasperation and affection as he looked at Jenny’s stubborn frown. He wanted to lean across the table and—do _something._ He wasn’t sure what.

“Absolutely not _what?”_ Jenny gave him a challenging smile.

“You are not paying for my potion, Jenny!” The exasperation seemed to be winning out. “Maintaining a constant supply of Wolfsbane would be a _terrible_ drain on your finances. I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Remus, we’ve _talked_ about this,” Jenny countered. “It’s not my money to spend. And frankly, I kinda _like_ the idea of draining my pureblood family’s fortune on a guy who they would absolutely hate.”

“A werewolf?” said Remus, a horrible, leaden feeling in his stomach. Of _course_ this was just about Jenny sticking it to her family.

Jenny tilted her head at him, then. Her smile remained determinedly combative, but her eyes softened like she knew what he was thinking. She probably did, Remus thought. She was good at that.

“A _half-blood,”_ said Jenny.

Remus drew in a sharp breath. He knocked over his chair, standing up abruptly, and a startled Jenny stood up too. “Remus, I’m sorry, I just meant—” she stammered, but then he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her. She tasted like chamomile, he thought. She was so impossibly small in his arms.

His temporary loss of reason only lasted a few seconds. Pulling back, he was opening his mouth to apologize when Jenny stood on tiptoe, draped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back. This kiss was slower—more languid—and the confidence in the way Jenny kissed him made Remus think that maybe he’d _found_ reason after all.

* * *

Five minutes after that—

“Remus, _come on,”_ came Jenny’s voice from the other side of the door, sounding more pissed off than anything. She wasn’t hurt, Remus thought. That was good. She wasn’t taking it personally. She understood where he was coming from. “Remus, are you _serious_ right now? Open the door!”

“I’m perfectly comfortable here, thank you,” was probably what Remus would have said if he could make himself stop fucking _shaking._ He could still feel the phantom imprint of Jenny’s soft mouth on his, the way her body fit against his—small and oddly delicate and not like Sirius at all. And the frightening fucking thing was that he didn’t _need_ her to be Sirius—he needed her to be _Jenny,_ with her wicked smile and her quick, sharp words and her awkward, clumsy attempts at comfort.

Damn it all to hell, Remus thought.

“Okay,” said Jenny. “You know what? I’m gonna appeal to your guilt complex. I hate that I’m doing this right now, Remus, but if you stay in there, I’m going to have to break the door down. And if I do _that,_ the market value of my house is going to decrease by a significant amount, which means that you’ll be causing me a significant financial loss.”

A tiny smile snuck past Remus before he could force it back down. Looking up into the bathroom mirror, he saw the sparkle in his eyes.

“Goddamn it, is _that_ seriously not working? _Remus!”_

Hesitantly, Remus crossed to the bathroom door, placing his hand on the doorknob. Opening that door meant letting Jenny in—into the room, into his life, into his heart. After Sirius, was it even _possible_ for him to love someone else? He’d loved Sirius so completely that he’d never even had to _look_ in any other direction, and he’d thought Sirius had loved him the same. And now Sirius was gone, and Remus’s heart with him—except a warm, steady flutter around Jenny seemed to suggest that that wasn’t quite the case.

“I wanted—” Remus’s voice came out hoarse and unsteady. “I wanted to be broken a bit longer, Jenny. I feel it—it’s a disservice to my love for Sirius, if I can just—”

“You haven’t _just,”_ said Jenny softly. He could almost picture the expression on her face. “Okay? I’m not asking anything from you. Not now, not ever.”

“No, I-I know,” said Remus, heart pounding. “But—but I think _I_ want something from _you.”_

Jenny went silent. All of a sudden, Remus _needed_ the door open; he needed to see her face. He unlocked the door quickly, tugging it open, and found her standing on the other side. Her lips were parted; her breath shallow. She didn’t say anything at all.

“Jenny?”

Just as unsteadily as Remus, Jenny said, “I can’t be your rebound.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“How do you know?”

Remus didn’t. “I have to take a few things on blind faith, here and there,” he said instead.

“I don’t want to be some Sirius Black knockoff,” said Jenny. She didn’t seem to be wavering. “The reason we got along so well is because we’re so damn _similar._ Purebloods from a shitty eugenicist family, big-time rebels, big-time flirts—”

But Remus shook his head. “No, that’s not right,” he said. “You weren’t in the same House, remember? You’ve never been as reckless as Sirius, nor as careless. Though you make rebellious decisions, they’re still…calculated. Thought through. You may make fiery statements in moments of passion, but you put in _months_ of hard work to make sure your promises come to fruition.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he spoke. “You’re much more grounded than you care to admit, Jenny,” he said. “It’s what I love about you.”

Jenny let out a shaky, uneasy breath, that vulnerability back in full force. Then she said, “Y’know, I love you too?”

The news made Remus’s stomach turn. “Oh,” he said weakly.

Jenny looked down and away, almost ashamed. “I mean—”

“No, Jenny, I just—” Remus swallowed. “I think you’re the first person who has.”

That made Jenny’s eyes snap up to his. “Remus, I can’t pretend to know what was going on in Sirius’s head,” she said. “I just don’t know. But he’s not a good enough actor to fake how much he loved you.”

“You don’t know—”

“No, I do.” Jenny’s small hands rested on the lapels of his jacket.

Remus had to shove down the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her silly. There was a _gentleness_ to her, now, one that had never existed when she was a brash, brave Order member focused only on living to fight another day. Jenny had had to toughen up fast, living with her family; it felt like a smaller, lovelier victory to see the parts of her that she’d hidden for so long. “I _do_ love you,” he said helplessly; it was all that he could think about.

Jenny cocked her head, smiling affectionately up at him. “Let’s give it some time,” she said, and patted his shoulder, moving away from Remus. “Just a little more time, okay? I don’t think you’re ready for—”

“I don’t think you get to tell me whether or not I’m _ready for,”_ said Remus, catching her by the waist. He felt her sharp, pleased intake of breath—felt it directly in contrast with the warning hand she placed on his chest. Bumping his nose against hers, he murmured, “You are so beautiful, Jenny.”

Jenny’s eyelashes fluttered shut. “Remus—”

Remus leaned in and kissed her again. She tasted a tiny bit like coffee, but more overwhelmingly like vanilla lip balm and something else that was just _Jenny._ It was so easy to kiss her and forget why he was kissing her, what he had lost, who he should be kissing instead—

Jenny’s hand on his chest separated them. She was looking up at him with a kind of purposeful exasperation. _“Remus,”_ she said.

Abashed, Remus dropped his head. Jenny deserved better than this. “I’m—”

“We’re going to give it two more months,” said Jenny.

“I’m sorry, two _months?”_ Remus repeated. “Isn’t that a bit _much?”_

“I’m sure you can restrain your ardent passions,” said Jenny, rolling her eyes a little like she thought he was joking. “Look, you’re coming out of a serious breakup, and I just—” She bit her lip, looking up at him. “I just can’t be your rebound,” she said. “I don’t know if I’m _in love_ with you, but I do know that I _love_ you. I think you’re ridiculous and sweet and the kind of person I like being around. And I’m not going to jeopardize my oldest friendship without empirical evidence that you telling me I’m beautiful isn’t just today’s passing fancy.”

Somehow, Remus loved her even more for that. “All right,” he said, and stepped back. After a moment of hesitation, he took her hand, softly kissing the knuckles. Her cheeks colored, and something in his chest fluttered in response.

* * *

A week later, the full moon was shining brightly through the kitchen window as Jenny made two grilled cheese sandwiches. “Can wolves eat grilled cheese?” she asked Remus, who was lying on the floor looking kind of stunned with his significantly-less-painful transformation.

Remus made a little _whuff_ noise, pulled himself up off the blanket on the floor, and wound himself around her legs, rubbing up against her in a way that felt more catlike than doglike. Jenny laughed, scratching his ears. “Careful!” she said. “I’ve still got the burners on.”

Remus nuzzled her calf.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” As Remus sat down on the floor, Jenny finished with the second sandwich, picking up the two plates to set them both on the floor in front of Remus. Sitting down across from him, she took one of the plates. “So this is a fun first date,” she said.

Remus gave her a Look.

Jenny snickered. “I’m sorry!” she said, reaching out to scratch his ears. Remus leaned into her hand, closing his eyes. “I _hope_ wolves can eat grilled cheese. I know how much you like it under normal circumstances. And hey, it’s _way_ better than human flesh, right?”

Remus opened his eyes to give Jenny another Look.

“Wow,” said Jenny. “You are shockingly communicative as a werewolf.” She took a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich—and Remus moved closer to her, lying down behind her to nose at her elbow. “What?”

Remus stretched out behind her, then curled in close around her, cuddling up against her.

Jenny got the message. She lay down against his fur—surprisingly, unusually soft, she noted—and turned her face towards his, looking into the eyes she’d recognize anywhere. “Hi, honey,” she whispered, warm and comfortable. “I’m gonna buy you Wolfsbane Potion for the rest of my life, no matter _what_ our relationship is. No one should have to transform once every month and _hurt,_ okay? You don’t deserve that. You deserve—” She stopped herself. The silence in the room, usually filled with banter and incisive jokes, was making her soften in a way she usually only did while alone.

Remus leaned down and rubbed his nose against hers.

“Hi!” Jenny whispered, and grinned. She remembered full moons in wartime—Remus coming back pale and miserable, half-leaning on Sirius because he could barely stand on his own. She wondered if he would still hurt tomorrow when he woke up. She decided she would help patch him up if he did. He hadn’t let her, these last few months, but now—

“You’re gonna let me take care of you, right?” she murmured, settling her face against his coat. She felt Remus nuzzle the side of her face in response; she wasn’t sure what kind of an answer that was, but she hoped it was the right one.

* * *

Remus woke up on the kitchen floor with Jenny snuggled in his arms, both of them lying on the blanket she’d set down for this exact purpose. He’d never woken from a full moon quite like this: warm and secure, someone he loved settled securely against him. Like she was _safe_ with him.

“Jenny,” he murmured.

Jenny stirred, but didn’t wake; she turned her face into his chest and cuddled closer.

Remus tucked his face into her hair. His wolf-senses lingered a bit, and they told him that she smelled like _home._


End file.
